I remember her mentioning that something felt “off,” but back then, none of us could have ever anticipated cancer. Every teacher I know has felt that constant pull of responsibility—the kids need you, the next big project can’t happen without you, and you’re always “on” for everyone. She was no different.
For months, she dedicated herself to preparing for a huge street painting event, determined to represent her small school in the community. She worked tirelessly with the kids, teaching them the techniques, organizing every detail, and making sure her ducks were in a row. There’s nothing quite like pushing your body to the breaking point when you’re a teacher, and it happens to all of us. But what made her different was that, just a few days before the event, she got the cancer diagnosis.
I remember when that happened. I found out just before I was going to doing street painting that I had cancer.
Anyone else would have focused on the upcoming surgery, making sure things were in order, and taking the time they needed to rest. But not her. Even with the weight of that news, she still showed up. She still gave everything she had to the street painting, under that blazing sun, with the same passion and dedication we all admired.
This is the only photo I have of that day—a blurry moment, much like her mind must have been, I’m sure. But it’s a reminder of her strength, her heart, and the lasting impact she made. Even when life got unbearably hard, she kept giving.
